


A Ghost of What He Truly Wants

by rhodrymavelyne



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:40:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22150447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhodrymavelyne/pseuds/rhodrymavelyne
Summary: Hannibal dances with Bedelia in Florence, surrounded by everything he could ever want…only it’s now just a ghost of what he truly wants.
Relationships: Bedelia Du Maurier/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 13





	A Ghost of What He Truly Wants

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during Antipasto, the first episode of the third season at the ball when Hannibal is dancing with Bedelia. I don’t own Hannibal, but for the latter half of the past year, it has owned me.

A group of people, men and women clad in tuxedos and evening gowns applaud me for my recital of Dante. Such a polite, appreciative audience, savouring all of the qualties Dr. Hannibal Lecter, no, Dr. Roman Fell had to offer, qualities I have no need to hide. 

“Only none of them matter.” Bedelia Du Maurier, a.k.a. Lydia Fell stands apart from my court in her evening gown, a mocking smile playing across her lips. I’m not sure if she’s actually speaking or I’m imagining the words. “He matters.” 

For a moment, I see you. Pale, beautiful green eyes transfixed by your own inner vision, a vision just for you.

The image brought back the dull ache of my empty waiting room without you in it. This glittering ballroom was just as empty. 

How easy it was to allow the ache to become a pain, similar to the one which had haunted me when I stalked the bowels of the F.B.I., searching for you. Eventually, I found you, sitting with a look of transfixed distraction upon your face. Still and exquisite as a work of art you were, yet somehow distant.

You returned, however, from whatever dream landscape you wandered at the sound of my voice. 

If I called to you now, Will, would you hear me? Would you return to me? Never has the ache for you been stronger than when you’re truly out of reach. Only are you?

I refuse to let any of this pain show on my face. I continue to smile, to scan the faces around me, noting little details about them. 

None of them are you. This was what I wanted, to get away from you. To tear myself free from the passion which has been consuming me ever since I walked into the halls of the F.B.I. and saw you, a slight, skittish young man who refused to meet my eyes. 

No, this has been growing long before that moment. Ever since Alana Bloom walked into my house with the scent of you clinging to her skin, you caught me. You caught me with your look, your mystery, the promise of something beyond the life I’d tried so hard to savour, yet somehow got locked into a routine in spite of my best intentions. 

I’m filled to the brim with so many things, Will. There is so much to experience, particularly here in Florence and only a short time to savour them in.

Why do I feel so empty without you? Why does this ballroom filled with well-dressed guests feel empty, as if everyone here was simply a ghost?

A ghost of what I truly want.


End file.
